


Opening up

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Casual Sex, Denial of Feelings, F/F, F/M, Feelings Realization, Flirting, Honesty, Oral Sex, sexual awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Sometimes, you get to a conclusion in an unexpected and surprising way. You might even have fun on the way.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Michelle Greenstreet
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

Michelle Greenstreet was a smart, capable woman in her late thirties. She wore her hair in an undercut, a sweep of blonde on top tousled to one side, and Robin had been distracted by the elegance of her neck where the hair was buzzed close almost from the moment they met. She couldn’t put a name to the distraction, just as she avoided naming other things she felt for certain other colleagues, but she had settled into thinking it was like those videos on youtube of things which were strangely satisfying and invitingly tactile.

So it was that she found herself idly wondering what it would feel like to run her slender fingers down Michelle’s hairline as the older woman was nodding at something Strike had said. The sound of his voice brought her back into the room again, and she frowned a little as she realized she was flushing and couldn’t decide where to avert her gaze – away from the imposing, dangerously familiar presence of her partner, or away from the arresting, creamy soft skin that continued underneath the sharp, tailored jacket collar of the woman seated in front of her.

She looked down at the notes in front of her and pretended she was actually aware of what was written there, winging through the rest of the meeting, and vaguely registering that Strike had asked her to stay and go through some things with Michelle while everyone else dispersed to various tasks.

“He’s workmanlike, I’ll give him that,” Michelle said. Robin smiled.

“That he is,” she agreed, settling into her seat and shuffling paper. She found Michelle a bit professionally intimidating, with her wider and longer experience, but she’d never felt the athletically built woman was consciously aware of it, nor stoking that situation deliberately. Robin reasoned that she should feel on firmer ground anyway; this was her office, home territory, and she was a partner while Michelle was only a subcontractor. She darted her eyes up and realized Michelle was observing her while she stalled.

“Is there a problem, Robin?” She asked, after a moment’s pause.

“No,” Robin said quickly. “Why?”

“Sorry, no reason, you just seemed a little distracted,” Michelle returned, leaning forward in her chair, her legs splayed wide and one elbow resting on her knee, her other hand unbuttoning the light grey suit jacket. She was a sharply dressed woman, and Robin appreciated well cut women’s tailoring. Her own style was softer, of course, but she hoped she looked as good as the other woman. It was only when she noticed a slight curve of Michelle’s lips into a half smile that she realized she’d been giving Michelle a thorough appraisal, running her clear eyes up and down her form, taking in the gabardine material, and noticing the fit over thighs and upper arms that indicated regular gym visits. Robin didn’t even know why she was blushing as she coughed a little and tucked her red blonde hair behind her ears.

“No, I, er, we’ve just got quite a bit to get through,” she managed, looking down at the list of things she’d wanted to run over.

“Fair enough,” Michelle answered, and the rest of the meeting continued in a brisk professional manner, and Robin managed to squash the sense that she was babbling nervously. Michelle was efficient and polite, asking intelligent questions and by the time they had reached the end of the list, Robin felt a little equilibrium had returned. They rose in unison at Robin’s suggestion they get a coffee, and before she realized she was doing it, she was again raking curious eyes down Michelle’s body, noticing the black shirt under the suit fitted snug over a small chest, and the flat front of the trousers over a stomach that had probably done many crunches. This time, Michelle didn’t play it as discreetly, locking eyes with Robin as soon as she dragged her gaze back up to her face again. Robin’s breath hitched a little at her expression, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Michelle ambled round the desk, one hand in her pocket, the other rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“Look, Robin,” she said, carefully. “I don’t want to over-step here, but am I misreading some signals? Please, just say if I am, and I won’t mention it again.”

Robin was startled at the question, totally unsure of how to respond and it showed on her face. But the directness had sent a thrill through her, and she also felt a physical response that came out of the blue, and made her shift her hips a little.

“Signals?” She managed, aiming for nonchalant, but the slight tremor in her voice hitting a note of excitement instead. Michelle’s lips quirked into a smile in response, encouraged.

“Yeah, signals,” she said, moving closer. “I mean, it’s a nice suit and all, but you look like you’re trying to memorize my measurements.”

Robin blushed and laughed nervously, looking down and up again, shaking her head.

“I was just, just noticing that you seem like you work out,” she said, truthfully. The fact that working out had created a body that intrigued her in ways she really couldn’t explain was harder to put into words. It was also the kind of thing that, had she said it to a man, would sound like flirting.

Michelle seemed to take it at face value. “I do,” she said, her hand still in her pocket, the other tracing circles on the desk now, as she stood facing Robin, barely a foot away from her, while Robin swayed on the spot. “I find it’s a useful thing, staying agile, especially in this line of work.”

Robin caught the scent of her, clean deodorant and something musky, and fought away a sudden dizziness. She nodded, thinking of her own runs, and the clarity of mind they gave her, clarity she felt she could benefit from now. She had been holding the notes against her chest, arms folded defensively, and she felt her heart begin to race as Michelle reached out and took the notes that Robin had begun to crumple without noticing, putting them down on the table. Robin dropped her arms, down, putting one, faux casually, on the desk, not registering that she was mirroring the other woman now. She tried to push her hair behind her ear again, pointlessly, as it was already there.

“So, about those signals,” Michelle continued, and Robin was alarmed and more than a little exhilarated to realize that she had closed the gap between them, and was now inches away. Robin knew she was blushing, the whole experience new and tremendously exciting, and she found herself sucking in her lower lip to moisten it, watching Michelle’s eyes dip down to watch her mouth. She let her lips fall slightly open and as Michelle leaned in, Robin felt her eyes drift closed as the other woman’s breath mingled with her own, their mouths meeting softly, Michelle gently sucking in that lower lip, her firm, fit body moving closer as Robin felt her own, heavier breasts crush against the firm breasts of the other woman. Michelle had brought the hand that trailed on the desk across and entwined her fingers with Robin’s, slipping her left hand round the delectable curve of Robin’s backside. Robin was intoxicated with the feeling, sinking into it for a long glorious minute, the intensity of Michelle’s toned but softly undulating body against her own, looser curves, pooling warm desire into her groin. Robin opened her mouth to the feel of Michelle’s tongue lapping at her own, and with a jolt of some primal passion, an image of what it might be like to be nakedly entangled with a woman released a moan from Robin right into Michelle’s hot mouth.

The sound itself seemed to pull them both out of the reckless embrace, and Robin was panting, heart racing, unable to feel the embarrassment she considered was probably appropriate, watching the other woman collect herself, running a hand through her own hair and straightening her jacket collar.

“Sorry,” Robin said, again pointlessly running her hand behind her ear. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither,” replied Michelle, and she seemed disconcerted. “I hope I didn’t…”

“No!” Robin said quickly. “It was really nice. I’ve just not ever… with a woman before, so I was a bit,” she added, by way of garbled explanation.

“You mean…?” Michelle asked in surprise. “You’re not gay?”

“Well, no, I don’t think so. I used to be married,” Robin said. “To a man,” she added, feeling a bit ridiculous now.

“Shit. I thought you were checking me out,” Michelle said.

“I was,” Robin’s eyes were wide, and then she creased her brow. “I really was. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“I’m not embarrassed, Robin. I’m just a bit… confused. If you’re not gay, I’m not sure why…”

“Does there have to be a reason? I don’t know what you’d call it.”

“Experimenting, Robin. That’s what most straight women call it,” Michelle said, a rueful edge to her tone.

“God, I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant. I didn’t even know you were… I just went with instinct. Look, if you want to forget it happened, that’s fine. But I didn’t mean anything bad,” Robin said, feeling mortified. “I don’t have a wide range of experience in this particular field.”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m usually better at being cautious. You just seemed pretty full on. Can I make it up to you by getting you a decent coffee?”

Robin smiled, something stirred up in her. “I’d love to, but please, you’re not making up anything to me, ok? That was nice and I don’t have a problem with you. I hope you don’t have one with me,” she assured Michelle.

“Hot woman checks me out and lets me kiss her? Nope, I can’t see that being a bad thing,” Michelle returned, picking up her small backpack.

~#~

Sitting in the Costa some time later, any awkwardness had dissipated, and they seemed on a surer footing together. It occurred to Robin that they could definitely become friends; Michelle was funny and self-deprecating. Robin tried to studiously avoid the appreciative glances that had created the atmosphere in the office, but it soon occurred to her that she was over-compensating by repeatedly touching Michelle’s forearm, and she returned to pointlessly tucking and re-tucking her hair behind her ear again. After a while, Michelle pursed her lips slightly and looked down, tracing her spoon in the last of her cappuccino.

“Look, Robin,” she began. “I don’t mind curiosity, yeah? And I’m flattered. But I don’t really want to deal with someone’s big coming out right now, so I’m not looking for a long-term thing.”

Robin’s heart flipped again at the other woman’s directness. It was exhilarating and quite unlike the conversations she had with Strike about emotions. The unbidden thought of him made something unfurl deep inside her, and she took the opening in Michelle’s statement.

“Not long-term?” She asked.

“Nope,” Michelle responded, licking the last chocolate dusted froth off her spoon.

“What about short term, then?” Robin asked, and she felt a small thrill of triumph at having read the opening right as Michelle’s eyebrow and mouth curled upwards in unison. Robin leaned forward, elbows on the table, biting her lower lip in, feeling a fearful boldness.

Michelle copied her, reaching forward and untucking the hair from behind Robin’s left ear, looking down to her gently bitten lower lip and back up to Robin’s light eyes.

“Are you making a pass at me, Robin? For real?”

Robin rode the wave of exhilaration. She’d never behaved like this with anyone before.

“Would you mind if I did?” She asked.

“Given that you’ve heard what I’m up for,” Michelle said, shrugging slightly and taking hold of Robin’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “I don’t mind at all. How do you feel about me saying yes?”

“Do you have any problems with me being one of those experimenting straight women?” Robin said, hovering around hugely excited and disbelief this was actually happening. Michelle laughed at the reference, and looked at their interlaced fingers.

“Shall we decide how straight you are afterwards?” She asked, holding Robin’s eyes for a long moment, and Robin shifted in her seat, feeling an insistent pulsing between her legs.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Robin breathed, her heart racing.

“Well, let’s just say, I bet I can make you feel things your ex-husband never did.”

“OK,” said Robin quickly, deciding quickly, at the invocation of Matt, and all his taunts when she left him, all those times she pretended to enjoy what he was doing, that she was damned well going to do this for herself. She stood up quickly, grabbing her bag. “How does this work then?” She said briskly, eliciting a hearty laugh from the other woman.

“Bloody hell, Robin. I appreciate the keen attitude. You don’t think we should do any more work today?”

Robin looked at the time, sheepishly realizing it was just before midday, and this was meant to be a coffee break, not an opportunity to drop everything and run off to shag someone in the middle of the day. She blushed, and Michelle stood up, picking her own bag and standing in front of Robin, tracing her hand on Robin’s upper arm.

“Seriously, I’ve said yes. Unless you change your mind, let’s meet after work, ok?” She said, reassuringly.

“Ok,” Robin laughed nervously, and Michelle put her hand under Robin’s chin, placing the tenderest of kisses on her lips.

“Try to concentrate, yeah? You’ll need to later anyway,” she said softly.

~#~

It didn’t help, of course. Robin was in an over heated daydream most of the day, one minute deciding this was a ridiculous thing to do and she should call it off, the next caught in a reverie of the kiss in the office and all the physical sensations she wanted to chase but couldn’t quite describe. At the close of the afternoon, Strike returned to the office, and Robin noticed herself become extra clumsy, knocking over her own pot of pens as he greeted her, and then dropping a sheaf of paper as he sat down. She tried not to appear flustered, but her fellow detective wasn’t fooled for a second.

“You all right?” He asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” she replied quickly. “Yes, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” She added, pushing her hair behind her ear again, and the memory of why she had been doing it earlier in the day came rushing in, and she blushed furiously at both the memory and the sudden thought that she might be doing it for the same reasons right now. If Michelle could read it, maybe Strike could. And maybe that meant… she cleared her throat and willed that train of thought away, looking up at Strike, who was sitting with a mug of tea in his hand, looking bemused at her frantic and failing attempts to appear her usual unflappable self.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, after a steadying breath. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be after work, and I’ve got a bit behind on a few things.”

“Need any help?” Strike asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” She said. She had another moment of thinking she should call it off, ten minutes away from the agreed time to meet. Linger here for a little longer instead, perhaps. Stay with Strike. She looked up again, and he was still looking at her, taking a gulp of tea. The eye contact sent an involuntary bolt of electricity through her, and she realized that as she’d been thinking about sex all afternoon, it wasn’t going to help to sit in a room with Strike looking at her like that, and she didn’t care to examine why that was. That second, she made the decision to keep her date.

~#~

She was bang on time to meet Michelle, who suggested they go back to her place. It was a short tube ride away, and the whole time, Michelle kept the contact between them, sometimes holding hands, sometimes trailing a hand on Robin’s back, so that by the time they made it to the door of Michelle’s flat, Robin felt completely electrified by the attention. Michelle put her key in her door, and let them in, dropping her backpack on the table just inside, and shucking off her jacket, which she put round the back of a chair as she walked into the flat.

“Want a drink?” She offered.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Robin replied, and there was a tremor in her voice that annoyed her. She wanted to avoid the appearance of nerves. She was nervous, yes, but she didn’t want to seem reluctant. She wanted this. She looked at Michelle, who had unbuttoned the cuffs of the black shirt now, and who ran her eyes up and down Robin as warmly and eagerly as Robin had done in the office before.

“You certainly are,” Michelle said, and slowly walked towards Robin, unbuttoning her shirt as she did. Robin could feel her heartbeat pulsing in time with the fluttering between her legs, and she let her bag drop to the floor. Her breath quickened.

Michelle now stood inches from Robin, and reached out, to push her coat from her shoulders, running her hands back up Robins neck and pulling her into a kiss, her mouth gentle to start, and then bolder as Robin whimpered in response and slipped her hands under the open black shirt. The feel of Michelle’s soft, warm skin, and the curve of her naked waist sent a further ripple of excitement through Robin, and she pressed her whole self into the kiss, as Michelle reached to undo the buttons of Robin’s blouse. It fell to the floor and Robin let out a small gasp of pleasure as the other woman began tracing hungry kisses down her neck and onto the exposed softness of her breasts, Michelle’s thumb circling Robin’s nipples through the lace of her bra.

“Come on,” Michelle said, taking Robin’s hand and leading her through the flat to the bedroom. The lighting subdued, and the bed in front of her, wearing only her jeans and a bra, Robin felt a jolt of vulnerability at the reality of the situation. Michelle caught her expression.

“Are you still sure, Robin? No hard feelings if you want to back out, ok? At any point. I won’t be offended.”

Robin took a breath. She had spent most of her life pleasing others, and the best things had mostly come from the times she took a risk and put her own desires first. She wanted to chase down this feeling now.

“I’m sure,” she said, and looking Michelle in the eye, she began to unbutton her jeans with deliberation, a smile playing round her lips as she pushed them down, over the curve of her arse, revealing the matching navy lace underwear, kicking them away and walking purposefully towards her. Michelle nodded, impressed, shrugging off her shirt, and peeling off the vest top she wore underneath. Her breasts were small and firm, and her arms were every bit as toned and fit as Robin had suspected. Robin ran her hand up Michelle’s right arm, and they fell into a sensual kiss, skin against skin, lips and tongues playing, Michelle’s hands running over the peachy roundness of Robin’s backside. Robin trailed her hand from Michelle’s shoulder down her chest and cupped her breast, kneading her lightly as Michelle’s tongue lapped against hers.

Seconds later, Michelle had unhooked the lacy bra and dipped her head down to Robin’s ample, heavier chest, sucking in and flicking her tongue over the hardening nipple. She pulled her towards and down onto the bed, settling into an embrace, kissing deeply, Robin making small delighted moans with every touch. Pausing to push off her trousers, and hook down her own plain black shorts, Michelle, turned back to Robin, laying next to her, naked and still warm. Robin was overtaken with the intimacy, and nodded, closing her eyes and dropping her head back in invitation as Michelle’s hand slipped into the navy lace, two fingers gliding past the tidy hair there and into Robin’s already slick folds, and tentatively pressing into her. Robin’s mouth fell open letting out a small cry of pleasure, relishing the feel of those two fingers slipping into her while the heel of Michelle’s palm moved against the top of Robin’s clit. She rocked into it, Michelle’s mouth covering hers, swallowing down each of the increasingly enthusiastic cries as that hand worked a practised rhythm that Robin understood from her times with her own hand there, but this was different, so much more intense, and never before with a warm body against her. She could feel the wetness from Michelle’s cunt on her thigh and the sensation tripped something primal in her that had been burning since that morning, and together with the motion of Michelle’s hand and her kiss, she could feel her climax barrelling towards her, and she clutched frantically into Michelle’s hair, and onto the upper arm of the hand that worked her so feverishly now towards a sweet, shuddering orgasm. She gasped for air as the aftershocks jerked through her, Michelle’s hand slowing, and her kisses languid and gentle.

“Nice?” Michelle asked, kissing down over the fading blush on Robin’s chest.

“Mmmm,” Robin managed, running her hand through her hair, smiling contentedly. She reached up and snaked her hand down the back of Michelle’s head, feeling the close-cropped hair at the base of her neck. “Wanted to do this in the office,” she admitted.

“Anything else you want to do?” Michelle asked, kissing back up Robin’s neck to her mouth again.

“Well,” Robin said, lightly. “I can’t promise to be as good as you…” She ran her fingers in light spirals, dancing down Michelle’s toned belly, and reached between her legs. Robin felt the hot slippery arousal that had been rubbing against her thigh moments before, and watched Michelle’s eyes flutter closed as Robin’s fingers began to move in gentle rhythm, first a light pressure on the top of the clit, then dipping down and into creamy folds, and back again.

“To the side a little,” Michelle said, her eyes still closed. Robin watched the other woman’s pleasure build as she moved her hand, feeling Michelle’s own hand palming a handful of Robin’s full, heavy breast. They shifted a little, so that Michelle was flatter on her back now, Robin’s own breath hitching, revelling in the sense of control she felt being able to create the moans and whimpers from the woman beneath her. “That’s it, yes. Keep it there, just like that,” Michelle cried, clutching at Robin’s waist and holding on. Robin watched in awe, her mouth fallen open, as Michelle tensed up, her face in ecstasy, thighs clamped round Robin's still working hand. Robin felt she was breathing as hard as her lover, and felt her breath quicken further as Michelle pulled Robin’s hand up and sucked in one, then two fingers.

“So, Robin,” she said, releasing Robin’s hand. “I’m willing to bet you’ve been lucky to come once before now.”

Robin nodded, suddenly coy. Michelle grinned and shook her head, pushing Robin back on the bed. Robin gasped, her core pulsing with desire as the other woman’s tongue ran hotly over Robin’s glistening folds. The intensity of her arousal, so soon after coming the first time, and on the back of the triumphant feeling of having pushed Michelle over the edge, pushed a halting moan from Robin, and she threw her hands upwards, gripping on to the wooden headboard. Michelle’s mouth was warm, and she moved her tongue with just the right insistent rhythm, the feel of it rippling, exquisite against the top of Robin’s clit. Michelle slid two fingers into Robin’s now creamy wetness, curling them upwards a little inside, and hitting something that dialled Robin’s sensations up to maximum.

Michelle had been right, she had never come twice with Matthew. She had been lucky to do it once, and yet here, under the experienced and tender hand of someone who was simply happy to enjoy her and share pleasure with her, she felt another orgasm building, more intense than the last, the heat rising from the top of her thighs and slowly radiating out and in and up. Robin held tightly to the headboard, her thoughts a blur as it detonated deep inside her and she was dimly aware she had screamed in blind ecstasy, her body taut with a satisfaction that flooded through every cell.

She seemed to float back down to reality, and felt Michelle now laying warm against her side. Robin’s arms were still above her head, but now slack and languid. She heard herself practically purring. Michelle was smiling at her, and Robin wondered if she had the same luminous glow of pleasure on her face as Michelle did.

“Happy?” Michelle asked.

“Mmm, very,” Robin affirmed. “You?”

“Very satisfied. Good to affirm that this is not a long term thing,” Michelle said, and there was a glint in her eyes.

Robin was a little non-plussed. It sounded like a rejection, and while she had been happy for this to be a one off, she didn’t want it to be because it had been rubbish. Her sudden vulnerability showed on her face, she knew.

“Was it not…? I had a great time. Sorry, was I not very-” Robin stammered.

“Shh,” Michelle said, her tone soothing. “It was lovely. You were lovely. It’s just obvious you’re into someone else. That’s absolutely fine, I get it and I’m happy for you,” she added.

“Someone else?” Robin asked, blind-sided. “I don’t-“

“Oh, come on, Robin. Let this be at least the start of some honesty. You screamed his name when you came,” Michelle laughed.

“Whose name?” Robin asked, and though she couldn’t actually remember doing it, Michelle’s next word hit her with the inevitability of gravity.

“Strike.”


	2. Chapter 2

Strike reflected that it had been a morning like any other, and that nothing had seemed like a bad sign, nothing had indicated the useful wind that had kept his sails full was about to drop away to a dead calm that left him adrift. He’d even felt optimistic as Robin had arrived full of smiles and accepted a mug of tea from him with her eyes holding his for a pleasurably long moment. He was now trying to slot that moment into the new paradigm he’d discerned when Michelle Greenstreet had arrived a few minutes later, dressed in sweats, ready for the surveillance job.

Robin had blushed. Greenstreet had the cocky air he recognized well from his own post-coital sense of triumph. Nothing was actually said. Everyone was quite professional. But Strike wasn’t an idiot. He knew that their new hire was gay. It was obviously not an issue on any level that mattered, In fact, it had never even crossed Strike’s mind that it would be an issue on the level it now appeared it was.

He rolled around the moment he had twigged what the undercurrent was, and he knew he was doing it to try and find a flaw in his conclusion. Because he wasn’t an idiot, but he was devastated. Something had happened between Robin and Greenstreet, and it wasn’t something that had left them unhappy. Strike had become used to batting away the dread that she would be persuaded by another man. It had never occurred to him that she would be persuaded by a woman.

~#~

Robin had stayed the night with Michelle, and it had been slightly surreal to have just had sex with someone and afterwards have a cosy chat about her deep feelings about someone else. 

“For what it’s worth, you keep it well under control in the office. People who know you probably guess, but it wouldn’t have occurred to me. I certainly wouldn’t have made a pass at you if I thought you were into Strike,” Michelle said, laying beside Robin, both tangled in her sheets after their passionate evening.

“I’m not sure I knew myself,” Robin said, and Michelle raised an eyebrow. “I’m serious!” Robin laughed, “I mean, I think I knew but it’s all a bit complicated.”

“Is it, though? Is he an arsehole or something?” Michelle probed.

“No! Not at all. He’s just… he keeps himself to himself about so much,” Robin said, thoughtfully.

“Well, that’s him, though. That’s nothing to do with you being honest about how you feel about him. That’s from inside you. What’s complicated about that?” Michelle wasn’t distracted.

“I told you, I haven’t had much experience,” Robin was suddenly guarded. Michelle watched her carefully.

“I’m not giving you the third degree. You don’t have to talk about anything you’d rather not.”

Robin realized she had brought the sheet up towards her chin, holding a defensive posture. She looked at Michelle, and relaxed again.

“It’s ok. I’ve only ever been with Matt, and I was attacked while we were together, so we had to start all over afterwards, and I’m just.. I don’t know, I’m wary about all that. I mean, I feel things, obviously. But I just find it quite hard to pursue it,” Robin explained, feeling that she was articulating something she hadn’t been able to put together before.

“You pursued this pretty effectively,” Michelle remarked, with a dirty chuckle.

“I did, didn’t I?” Robin laughed in return, pride flipping in her belly.

“But I guess that was because I’m not a man, and you don’t actually feel big scary things for me,” Michelle added, and Robin opened her mouth to dispute, but Michelle held a hand up. “It’s ok Robin. None of that offends me. I was a safe choice to have some fun, and you’re not in love with me,” she shrugged.

“You’re really great,” Robin said, sincerely. “I’m so glad I took a risk.”

“Me too,” Michelle smiled, “but don’t go back into hiding now. Life is far too fucking short to leave chances untaken.”

~#~

Strike had been distant for days. Robin had seen him the morning after her night with Michelle, and she allowed herself to drink in his physicality, thick of shoulder, holding his gaze a moment longer than she would have normally. He had handed her a mug of tea, and she deliberately didn’t shun the thought that bubbled up about his large hands, and whether he could do things with them as well as Michelle could. She consciously pushed away the guilt that tried to bubble up with it, and focused on the warm glow of pleasure she had.

She noticed something else too, something she realized she had been on the verge of connecting for a while now. He had always made her feel safe. She knew they were the best of friends, and that she had flourished with his respect. Michelle had been right that she was a safe choice for Robin. Safety mattered. But Michelle had also shown Robin that safety didn’t preclude incredible excitement, and standing in the office that morning, Robin understood that the things she wanted were not incompatible.

When Michelle had turned up, ready for work, and thrown Robin a wink which had eased her mind about any lingering awkwardness, she had felt incredible.

But the following days had been a painful jumble as work had overtaken any possibility of spending time together, and Strike had seemed to be quite deliberately avoiding even the necessary contact they should be having.

It wasn’t until a week and half later that Robin managed to pin him down to a pub meeting, and here he was, and she could have sworn he was attempting to avoid her gaze.

“Are you ok?” She asked. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, clearly trying to affect a nonchalant tone and not succeeding.

“Really? Because you don’t seem fine. You seem like a right grumpy sod, actually,” Robin returned, disinclined to let the atmosphere continue. She had wanted to have a little time to work her way up to something, to get used to allowing herself to have thoughts about him, and she hadn’t spent longer than half an hour with him in the past few days. She realized she was quite pissed off about that.

He shrugged.

“Oh, come on. I thought we were best mates. Why are you being such a dick?” She snapped.

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Mates. I guess so.”

“What is going on?” Robin asked, softening her tone slightly. 

He had folded his arms a bit too tightly, his thick jumper bulking out a little. He looked quite charmingly like a grumpy little boy. He sucked in a breath through his nose.

“If we’re best mates, how come you’ve gone back to keeping big things from me?” He said finally, “I’m not unenlightened. If you had come to a big breakthrough about your identity, I don’t know why you would feel you couldn’t talk to me about it.”

Robin blinked.

“ _ What?! _ What are you  _ talking _ about?” She exclaimed.

Strike seemed to be wrestling internally, dragging thoughts that he’d been torturing himself with for days into some sort of coherent whole.

“I mean, I don’t feel owed or anything, and you’re always your own woman and you know I respect that. I respect you. I really do. But I thought we’d got to a place where… well, I thought we’d got a place that we hadn’t actually got to, so what do I know? But even so,” he babbled, and then looked at her as though any of that had been something other than opaque and disconnected and added, “you know.”

Robin shook her head.

“Nope. Not a bloody clue,” she said.

“Look, I’m not the first bloke to ever find out a woman he likes is on the other bus, and I’m big enough and ugly enough to deal with disappointment. But us being friends is really important to me, and I don’t see why you being a lesbian should have any effect on that. I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he said.

Robin paused for a tiny moment and then dissolved into peals of laughter.

“I bet you bloody have!” She squealed through giggles.

He loosened his folded arms, blind sided by her reaction. Her reproach, he had expected. He wasn’t proud of his retreat from her, even though he had needed those days to compose his heart and his thoughts. But her flood of mirth in response to his magnanimity was something else.

“Well I haven’t thought about  _ that _ ,” he insisted.

She had been going to reply but his protestation made her giggles momentarily worse and he looked completely lost.

“I’m not a lesbian, Strike,” she finally managed. 

Strike sat, processing, with an expression that nearly tipped her back into hysteria again.

“But I thought,” he said slowly.

“What? What did you think?” she pressed.

“I thought you and Greenstreet… shit. Have I just made the most monumental miscalculation of my life?” he continued.

Robin, as amused as she had been by him extrapolating a massive identity crisis from her dalliance with Michelle, was still quite impressed and a little flushed that he had managed to pick up that something had happened.

“You’ve taken two and two and got Sputnik as an answer, yes,” she grinned.

He had regained his usual composure and was now waiting for her to explain exactly how much he had misunderstood.

“I, er,” Robin began, scratching the back of her neck as she sought the right phrasing, “I had an evening out with Michelle. It was fun, and we talked a lot, and I know she’s gay, but I’m not, and it’s not actually contagious, so…”

Strike looked down and turned his pint glass round a few times. Robin was content with what she’d told him. She felt no particular need to outline exactly how intimate she had been with Michelle. At this stage, his petulance had still irked her.

“So I’m a complete idiot and you’re not going to come out to me,” he said at last.

“No, you’re not a complete idiot, I did go out with her, but no, I’m going to come out to anyone,” she clarified. After a pause she added, “so can we talk about what you meant when you said I’m a woman you like? And what place you think we might have got to?”

He looked up, registering where she had collated that information, and visibly doing calculations in light of it, before breaking out into a defeated smile.

“Got me,” he said, ever so slightly sheepishly. He sighed, sat back and tapped a couple of times quickly on the table. “All right. I was pissed off because I like you. Like  _ that _ . And I thought I’d missed the boat by a hundred miles.”

Robin flushed with delight. It was one thing to be giving herself permission to think about her attraction to him, and pay full attention to how he made her feel. It was something else to think he really did feel the same way, to the point of panicking when he thought his chance had gone. She screwed her courage to the sticking place.

“Well, you haven’t,” she said, holding his gaze for as long as she dared, before the pooling heat in the very base of her abdomen grew too intense and she dropped her eyes to her own glass.


	3. Chapter 3

Strike held the door of The Tottenham open for Robin, pushing it with his left arm and standing to let her pass him. She didn’t walk straight through, lingering beside him instead, drawing herself up to her full height, and holding his gaze. She enjoyed the slight look of wonderment behind his eyes.

Two men squeezed past the two detectives, shunting Robin closer to Strike, and she put her hands out onto his chest to steady herself. It occurred to both of them, briefly, to take the men to task for their rudeness in not simply saying excuse me, but that thought and the thought of all propriety evaporated with their proximity to each other. 

A second later they crashed together, Robin pushing him further against the door, which clunked backwards against the corner portico. Strike enveloped her with his arms, one strong hand pulling her waist against him tightly, the other running into her hair. Their teeth clashed a little, noses bumping, passion not caring about clumsy contact, both of them lost in the heat of each other.

Robin pressed herself against him, grinding her hips into him, gratified to feel the unmistakable response of his arousal and the pressure of his hips rocking to match hers.

From somewhere behind them, in the pub, she heard a leering chorus of approval, and she pulled back, a little dazed, her hair ruffled, her cheeks glowing. Strike looked at her with hooded eyes, panting, as they both recalibrated to the reality of standing in the doorway of the Tottenham, having lost all control of themselves.

The tension broke as they both laughed at their eager and sudden public display of passion, and Robin ran a slightly embarrassed finger over her eyebrow and looked to the side, smiling.

“Ok, so that happened, then,” she said.

“Yeah, that definitely happened,” Strike responded ruefully, adjusting his trousers slightly.

They met each other’s eyes again, affection warm from both of them.

“Look,” Robin said, “Shall we call it a night for now? I’d really like to have a conversation before, you know, anything else happens.”

Strike nodded in agreement.

“I think that sounds like the very sensible Robin I know, and I’ve learned she knows what she’s about,” he replied.

Robin held out her hand to him, and he took it, pulling himself away from the door, and stepping into the street with her, the door swinging shut behind them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” She said, squeezing his thick fingers slightly.

“Looking forward to it,” he said, and leaned in to press a quick and gentle kiss on her lips, before staggering off in the direction of home.

“Sleep well,” Robin called after him, and without turning back he raised his right hand up in a half wave that became a thumbs up.

“Yeah, sleep. Definitely,” he said, his tone teasingly sarcastic, a dirty chuckle coming through, “you too!”

When she got home, having spent the entire journey reliving the battering, passionate kiss in the doorway, made herself a cup of herbal tea and settled into bed, she indulged a remembrance of that chuckle. In keeping with her ambition to allow herself to think honestly of how she felt about him, and in light of the leap forward this evening, she wondered if he was even slightly serious about being skeptical about sleep.

The idea that he was laying in his bed, unable to drift off, thinking about their encounter and feeling the same heat in his groin as she felt in hers now, sent tingles of pleasure down her thighs. She closed her eyes and let her hand slip between her legs, her middle and ring finger pressing gentle circles over the tip of her clitoris, as her mind took her back to the doorway and the feel of Strike pulling her into himself.

In her fantasy there was no lascivious jeer to stop them, and Strike spun her around and pushed her against the door, his mouth hot against hers, his body heavy. He ran hungry kisses down her neck, his hands at her waist, one slipping round to squeeze her bum, the other slipping into her jeans. Her circling fingers became his, and she let out a gasp as the intensity of her arousal ratcheted up with this shift in her perspective. Somehow in her fantasy her jeans had disappeared, and he was hoisting her up, his erection sprung free from his trousers and then he was entering her. She imagined herself being rocked against the door by him, the passionate kiss resumed, and a few seconds later, she shuddered into her release, catching her breath and laughing lightly at her own audacity, before slipping into a sated and contented sleep.

~#~

When Robin had got in the next morning, Strike had given her a boyish smile, and her first thought was to wonder wickedly if he had fallen asleep with similar thoughts, but she didn’t dwell on it. She was pleased that despite the seismic shift in their relationship, they were still focused and professional about the day’s tasks. It was only as five o’clock drew near, and Pat gathered her things to leave, that they allowed themselves to turn to more personal, intimate conversation.

“Good night last night,” Strike said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, it was,” Robin agreed, a split second image of her fantasy Strike holding her against the door to the The Tottenham forcing a warm smile from her lips.

“So you wanna do this, then? You and me?” The real Strike asked, which was possibly more exciting than what the fantasy Strike had done.

“Do you?” Robin replied, the question light, but covering a ripple of insecurity.

He looked at her, the eye contact blazing with intent.

“Yeah. I really do,” he said, emphatically, after a moment of holding her gaze.

“Me too,” Robin said. It came out more quietly than she wanted, slightly above a whisper, like a breath of reverent excitement.

They finished their day, got a takeaway and went back to Robin’s, where Max had left a note to say he was doing a night shoot. After enjoying food and some gentle flirting, settled on the sofa together, they melted into each other, resuming the previous night’s kiss, but without the clumsiness. This time they were slower, less frantic, Robin giving herself time to run her hands into his messy curls and mess them up some more. Strike pushed her back into the cushions as he kissed her, one big hand firmly holding her hip, his thumb running slowly back and forth, the other hand over the back of the sofa. She let her head fall back as he traced kisses down her neck. Her fantasy had been merely an echo of the reality of his lips scorching softly on her skin.

“I can’t believe I was such an idiot,” he muttered into the curve of Robin’s neck, the graze of his stubble and the warmth of his breath exquisite against her. “I don’t think I’ve ever misread something so badly.”

“Mmmm,” Robin replied, lost in the feel of his mouth.

“Why I thought you’d slept with Greenstreet, I don’t know. I must be losing my touch,” he continued, and Robin initially considered responding that his touch felt just fine, but a chime of alarm rang in her head. She didn’t want to start off with a lie rattling around their foundations.

“Um, I don’t think you are losing your touch,” she said, with no seductive tone, pushing him gently backwards.

“Ok, good to know,” he said, missing her change to careful caution, and attempting to put his head back into her neck to continue nuzzling against her. In truth, she would have liked to just let him, but this was important.

“No, I don’t mean… you weren’t wrong, I did sleep with Michelle,” she said, and she watched him process the new information.

“But you said,” he replied slowly.

“I said I wasn’t a lesbian, and I’m not. I told you we’d gone out and had fun, and we did. Given that you’d just spent the best part of two weeks ignoring me, I didn’t feel like sharing the details of my sex life with you,” Robin said, a little annoyed at feeling defensive.

“Oh. Right,” Strike replied, sitting back. “Were you ever going to mention it?”

“I just did. Do I have to run all my previous sexual encounters by you, because the only other one was Matthew,” Robin snapped, crosser than she realized.

“Well, I can tell you straight away he was a twat,” Strike said, and Robin quailed a little as his body language shifted away from her.

“Are you really going to do this?” Robin asked, frustrated and scared, but more indignant than anything else.

“Do what? I’m just surprised at you,” Strike said.

“About what?”

“I don’t know, I just didn’t picture you…”

“I didn’t expect you to picture me. What does that mean?” Robin’s emotions were a maelstrom now, but anger seemed to be predominant. “You know what, I don’t care. I think you should leave.”

She folded her arms and drew her legs up under herself. Strike nodded, pushing himself up quickly and stalking out. When she heard the front door slam, she burst into tears.

~#~

Strike checked his watch. Robin had still not turned up. He had spent the night stewing, pausing his temptation to dive to the bottom of the whisky bottle and instead deciding to torture himself with all the insecurities and disappointment he had spent the last two weeks trying to rationalize away.

He knew she was right, she had no obligation to tell him who she slept with. He was being unreasonable, and he hated that he couldn’t just turn off the horrible and unjustified sense of betrayal. 

Strike heard the outer door to the office open and Pat talking to a female voice. It wasn’t Robin. He got up and went out to see who it was. Greenstreet stood in front of Pat’s desk.

“Oh, Robin phoned,” Pat said when she saw him. “Said she’s going to do the Covent Garden surveillance job today.”

Strike nodded. Robin had never avoided him quite so pointedly, and he was aware of his stomach knotting up in response. He thought she would want to talk. She had made such a thing about talking being important. Maybe he had messed it up before it had even got started. The knot in his stomach grew tighter, and he looked over at Greenstreet, who seemed oblivious.

“Can I have a word?” He said to her, pushing down a feeling he couldn’t define.

“Sure, boss,” Greenstreet replied, following him into the inner office.

As she closed the door behind her, Strike settled himself leaning awkwardly on the edge of his desk, his arms folded. 

“How do you think it’s going here? Settling in?” He asked, tightly.

“Pretty good. Everyone gets on with it, and there are no personality clashes, which is something I’m always wary of,” Greenstreet replied, eyeing him carefully but betraying no edge of suspicion in her tone.

“So you get on with everyone,” Strike continued.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” she confirmed.

“And what do you think about Robin?” Strike asked, and a small tell in her expression gave away that she had realized what he was alluding to.

“She’s great,” she replied, holding his eye contact without flinching. “Why?”

Strike sniffed, bringing one hand up to briefly rub the bridge of his nose, leaving the other arm wrapped across his chest.

“She told me you slept together,” he said, bluntly.

“She’s very open with you. Is that a problem?” Greenstreet was unfazed.

“No,” Strike responded, fractionally less sure of himself.

“No, I guess it’s a positive thing that she’s honest with her partner.”

“Doesn’t feel that positive from where I’m sitting,” Strike replied quickly, the tenuous hold on professionalism beginning to slip. Greenstreet’s eyes widened and her eyebrows both quirked upwards.

“Yeah, well it was a bit off-putting when she screamed your name when she came, but we’ve all got challenges. Was there a point to this?” 

Strike shook his head slightly, his brain trying to work backwards from the mess he’d managed to get himself into, and process what the coolly angry woman in front of him had just said. He took a breath.

“I just don’t want workplace romances to cause friction,” he explained, trying to wrest this back to something sensible. Greenstreet snorted.

“Yeah, I can see that’s a big problem for you. Look, I’m not having a ‘romance’ with Robin. It was a one time thing, which we both knew and are quite happy about. She seems like a woman with a lot of sense, and she seems to think you’re not a dick, so you maybe want to not prove her wrong,” she retorted, and Strike could feel himself shrinking in the face of her words. He was silent for a moment, ashamed of himself.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, finally. “I’m out of order. It’s none of my business.”

Greenstreet cocked her head slightly to one side, trying to read him.

“Look, no hard feelings, ok?” She said, putting her hand out towards him. He looked at the peace offering, and took hold of the handshake, pumping it once and nodding.

“I don’t want any drama. What you two do is up to you. I just want to get on with my job. Robin’s a great woman. But I think you know that,” Greenstreet said, turning and leaving the office, leaving Strike stood alone.

~#~

Robin was looking at the pictures she’d managed to get while she sat in a Costa when her phone rang. It was Strike. She considered letting it go to voicemail, but she had exorcised most of her anger towards him by not turning up to the office, so she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Strike said immediately, “I’ve got no excuses. I wasn’t even drunk.”

Robin smiled despite herself.

“No, you weren’t,” she said, “I still don’t quite know what the problem was.”

“I… I thought you lied to me,” he admitted.

“But I never said I didn’t sleep…”

“I know,” he interrupted, “I know. I just spent two weeks thinking I had lost all possible chance with you, even more finally than you getting married to that twat, and then you were in my arms and I just… I think I’ve got whiplash from how quickly everything keeps changing. I had no right to get arsey about you… sleeping with Greenstreet.”

He said it all candidly, and Robin could hear an edge of pain in his voice at the last three words.

“No, but I can’t expect you to be clairvoyant about what’s been going on without me telling you,” she replied, the last of her irritation dying away.

“D’you want to come round? Talk about it face to face?” He asked, and she felt a warm affection for him drown the irritation completely.

~#~

Robin sat in the armchair while Strike made tea, bringing it over and pulling a straight backed chair over the sit by her.

“I just don’t have a lot of experience. I’m not like you, all sexual magnetism and supermodels,” Robin said, after a sip of tea.

Strike grinned.

“It was a crazy spur of the moment thing, and I’m not even slightly sorry for it,” she continued.

“I wouldn’t ask you to be,” Strike assured her.

“I’ll bet,” she laughed a little.

“No, I mean it. I don’t own you, and I am not making demands on you. I want you to do what you want to do and not feel guilty about things you don’t have any reason to feel guilty about,” he insisted.

“I didn’t feel guilty about doing it. It was great. But I did feel a bit guilty about the things it made me think afterwards,” she admitted.

Strike creased his brow, curious.

“It made me think of you. Not because she was no good, but because it made me think about what and who I really wanted,” she told him.

He let his mouth turn up in a wickedly cocky grin.

“Yeah, all right,” she laughed, and he launched forward, taking the mug off her and enjoying her laughter as he began to kiss her neck again, and up her jawline, and finally her mouth once more.

She yielded to his kiss immediately and warmly, the pent up frustration flooding out into an eager embrace, as she leant right back in the armchair and pulled him over her. After a minute of a deep, thorough kiss, he rested his head on her forehead, wedged in beside her on the chair, slightly awkward.

“So, er, Greenstreet said something, and I don’t know if it was just because I was being a dick or if she was serious,” he said.

“Go on,” Robin replied, playfully.

“Did you really scream my name when you came?”

Robin giggled.

“Yes,” she said.

“Can you do it again?” Strike replied.

“I think that’s up to you, isn’t it?” 

They smiled at each other, and he pulled her into a kiss again, and she let out a small moan into his mouth as his hand trailed down her waist and came to rest heavily on her groin, pressing his fingers gently over her jeans, where her legs came together. A second later, he was slipping his whole body down in front of her as she lay back in the armchair. She watched him with a mix of trepidation and excitement as he knelt in front of her and opened the buttons on her jeans. She lifted her hips to let him tug them down, revealing a pair of dark burgundy lace knickers. He quirked an approving eyebrow, and knelt forward to place a kiss on her vulva, over the top of the knickers. The warmth of his lips and breath against her through the fabric made her gasp, her breath stepping up the pace. She felt his tongue run slowly up, and the moisture begin to seep through. Then he was reaching to her hips, rolling the knickers down and off. 

He ran his hands back up her thighs and settled them on her hips. He bent his head in, and without preamble, opened his mouth and began to lave his tongue against her folds, suck against the tip of her clit and then flick his tongue there, all while his big hands caressed her hips softly. She whimpered as the touch of his mouth pulled her along towards an ecstatic release, grasping a handful of his hair, which made him chuckle into her as he enjoyed her pleasure.

“Oh… oh yes.. Don’t stop.. Oh god....Oooh!” she cried, shattering in a million pieces under his lips and tongue. He continued to softly lap at her while she came down, and when she was still, he pushed himself gently up, leaning over and scooping her out of the chair. 

He carried her into the small bedroom, her body loose from the orgasm, her head nestled into his neck. He lay her reverently down on the bed and stepped back, unbuttoning his shirt as she watched him with limpid eyes. When he had finished undressing, he climbed beside her, pushing her top up. She raised her arms for him to pull it over her head, and let him reach behind her and unhook the bra she wore which had matched the knickers. 

Naked together, her warm, silky soft skin against his expanse of hair over strong bulk, they let their hands wander, murmuring appreciation for each intimate touch.

“You didn’t say my name,” Strike whispered, with a faux petulance.

“You blew my mind, sorry,” Robin replied. “Perhaps if I have another go?”

He let out a long breath, his eyes dark, and he ran his hand between her thighs and gently eased them apart. She sighed in welcome, and he swung himself above her, lining himself up and moving into her smooth wetness, sinking into the embrace of her. He held himself still for a second, deep within her, and then as her hips began to roll, he mirrored her rhythm, pulling out a way and then in again, watching her face as she let out a little cry with each in-thrust.

“Oh Cormoran. That’s so good,” she breathed, and he covered her neck with kisses as he moved inside her, propped up on his left elbow, his right thumb tracing circles around one of her nipples. 

She shifted her hips, bringing her legs up to hook around his waist, the angle shift meaning he went deeper, and he let out a moan in response.

“Yes,” Robin said, “please don’t hold back.”

He picked up the pace, his face full of concentration, and she arched beneath his steady rhythm, feeling a second climax building to match the one he seemed to be chasing now.

“Oh god, Robin, you are amazing,” he said, a frantic edge to his voice that set off fireworks in her heart and she cried out wordlessly in response.

“Yes!” she cried, as the peak approached, and here he was losing control above her, and she could have sworn he suddenly felt even harder and bigger inside her, and she threw her head back into the pillow. “Oh god, Strike, yes! Yes! Oooh Yes!”

The sound of her cries pulled a guttural moan from him as he lost himself completely, bucking into her deeply, his hands gripping her shoulders, emptying himself into her, before rocking slowly to stillness.

They lay together for a long while, limbs tangled together, breath evening out, hands idling over each other contentedly.

Robin kissed him softly and rubbed her nose against his.

“Thank you,” she said, “that was so very good.”

“It really was,” he said, and she laughed that he sounded a bit surprised.

They adjusted themselves under the duvet to sleep, Strike on his back now, Robin draping herself across his chest, under his chin. He kissed her hair, stroking it softly.

“So what do you think about our newest hire, then? I think she’s been a good choice,” he said lightly, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I think she’s been the absolute making of us,” Robin replied, and they let sleep take them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to assume they had a conversation about protection/birth control at some point, ok? Practice safer sex, people.


End file.
